


the lost wager job

by irnan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, mischiefmanaged!verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-18
Updated: 2012-04-18
Packaged: 2017-11-03 21:06:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/385933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irnan/pseuds/irnan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Dad thinks this could get bad, he should've seen what they did to lose the bet in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the lost wager job

**Author's Note:**

> In my head it involved a large tub of soapy water, two black candles (unlit), a garden rake, a pair of earmuffs, a grammophone, three white mice, an ice cream scoop and a paper airplane. It's one of those stories that will never ever be written, because it's _more_ fun that way. Title references Leverage.

"I'm starting to think this was a bit of a mistake."

They were standing on the village green; the streetlights were on and the pub door was open. Jukebox music mingled with the voices inside and the laughter of the smokers on the steps, their cigarettes trailing smoke in the air as they gestured. It was late August, and twilight was rapidly sinking into night. Meanwhile, the Potter brothers were contemplating the horror they were about to unleash on Godric's Hollow with a jaundiced eye.

"Nonsense," said James, but he didn't sound too convinced. "It'll be perfect."

"It'll be a catastrophe," said Al gloomily.

James sighed. "Yeah. Probably."

They looked at each other, blue eyes and green indistinguishable in the dimness.

"There's nothing to be done," said Al. "We made a bet."

"We did."

"And we're being watched."

Over in Dickie Hammond's shrubbery, there was a glint as of dying light on the twin lenses of a pair of field-glasses and a rustle as of shrubbery disturbed by someone shaking with laughter. Freddie and Roxanne had concealed themselves with characteristic efficiency and an eye to the best vantage point from which to see the upcoming show; any shirking on the part of their cousins would be noted by them and revenged at a later date.

"We are."

A deep breath, the trembling calm before the storm. Over by the Hollows someone shouted that Rosemary was a slag, and someone else told them to shut up. A dog barked and a window slammed, and then James reached out snake-quick to undo the latch, both of them poised on the balls of their feet to run as soon as it snicked. But fast as James was, the strong, long-fingered hand that closed around his wrist belonged to someone who could move even quicker.

Huge sigh of relief.

"Dad!"

"Lily said I had to come rescue you," said Dad. "All bets officially forbidden, death and dismemberment await anyone opening that cage, etcetera, etcetera. Quick, put a cover over it before anyone sees. By the way, what exactly is the megaphone for?"

Said cover was hastily retrieved and flung over the pixie cage. Neither of them answered the question about the megaphone, and were frankly grateful he hadn't seen the firework under the bench behind them. James turned to peer over at Dickie's shrubbery, but he was fairly certain that the other two had taken to their heels the second they saw Dad appearing on the scene.

"When did you get back?" Al was asking Dad.

"Bout an hour ago," he said ruefully. "Nice mess to come home to, I don't think. Gin having to work in her holidays and you three running riot. It's not fair on her, you know that, especially not when I'm away."

His voice took on a sterner note when he added that last, and Al shuffled guiltily, though James was yet uncowed.

"You let us run riot all the time," he said.

Dad snorted. "With the implicit proviso and assumption that underneath all that Gryffindor stupidity there is enough plain common sense lurking that you know when to knock it off," he said. "Such as _now_. Standing on the village green with a cage full of _angry Cornish pixies_. It's plain irresponsible and it's cruelty to sentients."

"Nobody's proved..." James muttered.

"I invite you to try defending that viewpoint about pixies in an argument with your Aunt Hermione," retorted Dad, heavy with sarcasm. As long as he was still being sarcastic he wasn't totally furious - Dad was sarcastic a lot, whereas you could tell when he was totally furious because he always put a lot of effort into not showing that he was, so much so that he usually ended up talking to them in a determinedly calm voice with his fists clenched and shoved in his trouser pockets. But Albus felt that in this particular case his father was certainly disappointed.

That cut deep. He hated to disappoint Dad. Mum and Dad let James and Albus and Lily do so much that other kids didn't get to do, let them get away with so much, that it felt unfair to really disappoint them. It was Crossing A Line.

"It was a bet," he tried to explain. "It was a question of _honour_. We couldn't break our word."

"Rubbish," said Dad. "If you get conned into promising something that's manifestly wrong, you _break your damn word_. _Instantly_."

This was a new concept for his sons. They were much given to mayhem and mischief-making, but one aspect of that was the pride they took in such work - in that craftsmanship, if you like. In the end it was, after all, about making people laugh, about doing something that people enjoyed. Confronted with an angry Professor pointing at their latest job and yelling 'did you do this?' it would not occur to either of them to say 'no'. It was an attitude which had frequently sunk several of their friends and relations - from Jules and Teddy to Freddie and Rox to Rosie to Scorpius to Moira, Linc and Ned - into the depths of despair, not to mention detention; nevertheless, there were some things even the Potter brothers didn't stoop to, and outright, petty lying was one of them.

Dad waited while they processed this fundamental reconfiguration of the world they lived in.

"Honesty," he said at last, "being in some ways a very easy sort of position - you choose your point and you stick to it come hell or high water - is occasionally overrated. Especially when the alternative is doing what's right."

James and Al looked at each other.

"We only -"

"I -"

"You'll carry that cage home," said Dad, cutting off any potential metaphysical wrangling with a single blow. "Gently, if you please. I want a shower and a drink and peace and quiet for the rest of the night, and I'll have it if I have to lock you three in your bedrooms until breakfast-time tomorrow morning."

James sighed and bent to lift the cage. Dad nodded once and turned to lead them home, but before he'd gone two steps he paused. "By the way, who was the bet with?"

Carrying tales was another thing the Potter brothers Did Not Do.

Dad turned to look at them. Al crossed his arms over his chest. Dishonesty over wrongdoing was one thing, but it would take a lot more than that to turn him into a sneak.

"Fred and Roxy," said Dad.

Silence.

"Where did you get the pixies?"

State secret, Dad. James staggered upright under the weight of the cage and pulled a face.

"Fred and Roxy," Dad repeated.

Shuffle.

"If I go over there to talk to George and _then_ find out it was Teddy I shall ban that boy from setting foot in this village for a year."

Shock. Horror. They'd never hear the end of it (from Lily). They'd never so much as see Teddy again. A whole year was half an eternity.

Better a sneak than responsible for Teddy's exile.

"... he didn't want to," said Al. "We made him."

"It was _our fault_ , Dad," said James.

Dad hmmed thoughtfully. Then he sighed, and nodded, and shook his head immediately after. "What the hell are we going to do with you," he said ruefully.

James looked hopeful. "We're not evil," he said, almost cheerful again.

"Not evil," Dad agreed. "Thoughtless might hit it." He moved back to them and put an arm around Albus' shoulders. "C'mon, let's go home. Did you leave any food in the kitchen?"

"There's cereal," said Al, grinning, and leaned close to Dad, his thin jumper a bit scratchy against Al's cheek.

"Yuck," said Dad. "Oh no, we'll have to order in." He grinned back down at Al.

"Mum said she'd try and bring something home," James offered.

"Probably fair to say she's got enough going on," said Dad. "Whatsit to be, fish'n'chips, curry, pizza..."

"Curry!"

"Pizza."

"And Lily, inevitably, will want fish'n'chips," said Dad.

"Lily _always_ wants fish'n'chips."

"Maybe we should go for baked potatoes."

"There aren't any baked beans," said James.

"Cheese and bacon and sausages?"

This suggestion being met with approval, they went home.

 

The next morning the pixy cage had disappeared; when they asked Dad where to he grinned and shrugged, but Freddie and Rox came over that afternoon and, pale and haunted-looking, apologised - not for the bet, but for the stakes - so an educated guess was at least possible.


End file.
